Twisted Encouters
by RainbowZombieApocolypse
Summary: One-shot. America hosts the world meeting but it turns into a game of twister! Only England and Italy are left standing. Who will win? And why does Italy keep smirking like that? Rated T for suggestive themes very suggestive themes and OOC Italy. Enjoy!


"Left hand red." America's voice called out and England struggled to move his pretzeled arm towards the bright red circle to his left.

He could feel the body underneath him squirm, trying to get a lock on his own target as the hand groped around, over England's thigh almost teasingly before resting his palm on the red spot.

England's eyes traveled up to his italian rival's face and saw the hidden fire behind that sweet smile. The former empire felt his cheeks turn hot at the burning stare Italy gave him. He could hear the faint scraping of the plastic arrow twirling on the cardboard as America flicked it. England swallowed the thick lump that started to form in his throat.

"Right hand green." America said again, watching in amusement as the two scanned the playing surface for a smudge of green.

Italy shifted his body, placing his right hand on the green circle so that he was now in the crab-walk position. England's eyes travled over the glossy surface of the material paper, dreading the sight of that line of green circles as he saw where he would need to move to.

The dark green spots were located on the far end of the mat, he would need to cross his arm and half of his body over the small italian to be able to reach it but that would lead to a very compromising position. England contemplated his options.

He could just reach over and put his hand on the bloody color or he could call it quits and forfeit the match all together. Italy seemed to read his mind and he could see the smaller nation's lips twitch into a victorious smirk, very unlikely of the country.

A surge of annoyance ran through England's body at the smug grin and a determined look took over his features.

Fuck it

He reached over and placed his right hand over the italian's torso, his fingers barely brushing the green edges of the circle.

Why oh why had he agree to play this stupid game?

Of course it had been America's idea, he was hosting the world meeting after all. Things had gone smoothly(compared to usual) and the lot decided that a game should be played. Honestly, America just wanted to con people into playing his silly games.

England didn't really know why he had decided to go along with the american's foolishness, he figured he wouldn't last long anyway with his old bones but every time someone toppled over and he remained standing sent ripples of victory rampaging through his body. It reminded him of the good ol' days when he dominated the world.

A pack of people had started playing at first like Spain, France(who was probably just in it to cop a quick feel) and even Germany after some persuasion from a certain red headed italian but after not too long only him and Italy were left crumpled on the sheet. England figured it was because of his small size and surprising flexibility that the cowardly italian had made it this far but he was far from ready to lose to the other.

"Right knee yellow." America called out again.

Knee? Didn't this game only compromise hands and feet? Must be a newer version, England thought vaguely as he lowered his knee down unto the circle of yellow. He felt the northern italian lower his body to be able to reach the yellow dot directly beneath him and felt his own body subconsciously lowering with him, as if drawn to the country like a magnet.

America spun the arrow once more, and the crowd fell silent as it spun almost endlessly until finally stopping to point at its target.

"Left elbow red." The host of this devious game called out.

Italy was already on the move and placed his elbow delicately on bright red mark. England swallowed thickly as he mapped out his path. He would have to lower himself even closer to his italian rival, to the point where their chests would touch. He barely caught the smaller country's lip move upward in a taunting smirk.

"Your move." Italy whispered low enough for only him to hear. The remark sounded downright seductive and England pondered wether the wimpy weak Italy was the real one or if this beast was.

Not wanting to be shown up by his rival, England lowered his body to be able to place his left elbow on the red circle under the red head. Their bodies were pressed so closely together that England could feel the thumping of the other's heart against his chest. Or perhaps that was his own heart frantically beating?

Droplet's a salty sweat began to prickle his skin from the close proximity and the heat radiating from the other nation's body envelopped him like a hot summer day. His limbs had began to shake from the strain. Italy's teasing gaze didn't make things much easier as those bright, honey colored eyes bored holes into him.

The once great empire barely registered the sound of that taunting arrow as it spun wildly on the cardboard square. He vageuly wondered where it would land.

"Left foot blue." America called once more.

England look back over his shoulder to see the row of dark blue circles and slid his foot back a few inches. Easy enough, he thought. He looked down only to see that devilish grin gracing his opponent's lips and tried to think of what the young country was planning. A leg brushed up against his, almost sensually and England could tell that the italian's left foot had taken refuge right next to his, sharing the blue circle that he had claimed as his own. He was about to make a sound of protest, saying that two people should not be allowed to share a spot on the mat when Italy's left knee bent in a way that brushed against England in a very sensitive spot.

The blond's noise of protest was turned into a bitten back moan as Italy's knee pressed against his crotch. That bastard had done it in a way that could be seen as accidental to their viewers-if any of them had caught the act at all, but England knew that this was all planned out by his devious counterpart.

Italy began pressing more against the brit's groin, that taunting smile never leaving his peachy lips as he felt the older nation shudder above him. England had to fight the moans that were fighting to come out of his throat. He cursed himself as he began to get hard from the other's dastardly ministrations. Italy felt the hardened length and pressed up more against the arousal, rubbing unoticeable cirlces between the other country's legs.

England's breath had begun to hitch and he had to clamp his teeth down on his bottom lip to stop a particularily loud moan from slipping out. He had almost forgotten what had brought on this this torture and delicious pleasure until he heard America call out, oblivious to what was happening in front of him.

"Right foot yellow."

Italy drew up his other leg, letting his right knee bump against England's hard on none too gently.

England fought the urge to cry out but finally ended up collapsing ontop of the other country, panting as he lay sprawled on the italian in a manor that suggested many things.

"England's out." America called with a pout, as if he had expected the brit to win or at least last longer.

"Ve! That mean's I won!" Italy cheered as he sat up from being crushed under the weight of the british man.

The other country's had come over to help the two up and congradulate the hyper italian on his surprising victory. England stood, still panting somewhat as he did his best to his the tent in his pants. He looked over at the once to be thought innocent Italy with burning curiosity.

Italy caught the glare and responded with a wink and mouthed out words that sounded like;

_You, Me, After the meeting_

England could hardly wait.

**A/N : For some reason, I like this pairing ^^ Anyway, found this lying around in my documents folder and decided to finish it. I personally like how it turned out. Please Review and check out my other stories, who knows, I might make other little drabbles like this ;) **


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